The Unwashed Picnic

‘Let us have a picnic!’ said Toe unto Blob.
‘But wait, aren’t you working this weekend? Won’t you lose your job?’
‘Nonsense!’ replied Toe, as she gathered the villagers round
‘Such an attempt to fire me would be completely unfound!’
Cornbread cooked up sandwiches and baked a nice old pie
BlueCross forbade bringing citrus fruits, though no-one knew quite why
Ymir and Night Owl hauled the ale, round and bursting with drink
Buffy carried the picnic cloth, which was checkered grey and pink
The villagers had settled to have an eatie, when someone proposed a game
‘Which one?’ Turjan asked over tea. ‘Oh, ‘darts’ is really it’s name.’
Replied Toe, who looked about for something for the target to be
‘None can be found! What shall we use?’ And then she spied BC.
‘Oh, no, No no, young whippersnapper, you simply can’t use me.’
And glancing around, he stated, ‘Why don’t we hit that tree?’
Hit a tree? Such a thing? From such a gentle crowd?
‘Alright,’ said Toe, with shrugs, and bade them gather round.
‘Find a weapon! To hit the target, this big old smelly plant.
And please, don’t give anything to Blob; Play darts, he certainly can’t.’
Well Bob got in a little snit, and went to sulk by Iggy
Who was thinking of hitting the tree with a little hickory twiggy
‘Iguana, put that club down! You don’t want to kill the tree!’
‘Hunh? Why not? Aren’t we playing darts?’ replied a confused Iggy.
‘Yeah, we are, so carry on!’ shouted a jolly Toe
As she handed a plasma grenade to her dust bunnie, Margo.
‘Hey, that’s shnot fair!’ slurred Owl, already in a drunken stupor
‘We can’t shtart the game til Ymmie and me recooper-recuper--’
‘Until we get better, you know. Calm down Owl, at least for now, and let little Margo go.’
And so it was the dust bunnie was first up there to throw.
Unfortunately, she too had been dippin’ into the ale
For her plasma grenade exploded just short of Shiny’s silver tail
(Of course, he didn’t notice, fast asleep and snoring
He’d found the picnic somewhat tiring and boring.)
Next up was Wenchy, who wanted to throw Weasel
But used a shoe when he chickened out, the old ungodly dweezle.
Her red high heel fair smacked a tree n gave it a run for its money
Unfortunately, twas the wrong tree...Better luck next time, honey.
Hatchetman was next to try, and he probably would have won
If Lerk hadn’t insisted he’d cheated (by using his gun).
‘Hmm, darts, what an odd game. Perhaps I’ll give it a spin.’
Said old BC who promptly dodged all the citrus fruits thrown at him
‘Hey, you young buggers! I said leave the tanges at home!
Didn’t you read the beginning of the pome (sic)?’
Poor Daisy never knew what hit her, BC just heaved the poor lil cat
She smacked straight into the bullseye with a sickening, sickening splat.
‘Uh oh.’ Cried Toe, ducking behind Iggy and Bob.
Was a bad move on BC’s part, though he did a rather nice job
In wrecking the tree...see, it’s split straight in two
Apparently, when Daisy hit it, she must have fairly flew.
Out of the wreckage of the poor old stump came a big white lump of fur
Growling the kind of awful growl that can only mean ‘Danger’.
‘Ah, hush yer yap, Daisy,’ said BC, producing a wad of cash
‘Yer fine, ye furry coot..Now go out and spend my stash.’
Daisy fairly sauntered but took the stack of bills;
The moral of today’s story: Better to be bribed than to be killed.
The villagers gathered up the Old Farts
And the Unwashed Babies too
And ate and ate all the party food
Until the day was through
Finally they packed back up, and towards home they did go
Daisy, well, she’s still out shopping...she found BC’s Visa Gold.

*HUGS*